


Visibility

by LadyTegana



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Mistborn - Brandon Sanderson, The Alloy of Law - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 13:36:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9659642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTegana/pseuds/LadyTegana
Summary: Lady Steris Harms has become accustomed to subdued celebration.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted on Tumblr as part of the May 2016 Cosmere Challenge. It appears here with a few minor changes. Mild spoilers for Bands of Mourning and the preceding volumes.

The morning broke bright and cool over the rooftops of Elendel, bathing every building in cloudless light. It peeked in at the curtains, threading thin fingers through dense fabric to signal the start of the day. From her bed, Steris watched the light filter. 

She remained ensconced in the warmth of the bed for a few moments longer than usual, reveling the crispness of the air, letting the thin tendrils of light that broke through the curtains spill over her arms and face. It was a strange feeling, this early morning hush.

Beside her, her husband snored, untroubled by the sudden brightness of morning – she left him sleeping as she crept out of bed. He had been out late again last night, no doubt making his soaring flight over the city. Surveying his home. Keeping its residents safe.

She almost reached out to stroke a lock of dark hair away from his forehead as she left, but reason stayed her hand. Her strange affectionate whims were no reason to disturb his sleep.

Like every other morning, Steris donned her dressing gown and washed her face, then retreated to the office to review the latest account records. There was nothing quite like the solid grip of a pen and a well-organized column of numbers to steady shaking hands. Particularly on a day that she knew would be, at best, disappointing.

Over the ledger notes, her pen wavered.

_At worst, well…_

She had to still herself, center again, take a moment to breathe.

The childhood events that her father had thrown – events, for they could not truly be called parties – had been, at best, lukewarm. In those days, House Harms had not been in the good standing it occupied today. But despite – and perhaps because of – their tenuous position as one of the lesser known houses, her father had always used the celebration of his daughter’s birth as an occasion to raise his own social standing. All the young nobles were invited, pressed into an undersized ballroom, made to wait, awkward and formal, for the guest of honor to arrive.

Only, when she did arrive, she would remain in their gazes just long enough to descend the staircase. In her sensible, conservatively cut, dark blue dress, she would walk slowly, demurely, as she had been instructed. But the moment her foot touched the bottom step, she disappeared. Conversations resumed, eyes went back to flirtatious glances at other young nobles across the room. And Steris faded into obscurity, just as she always had. Invisible. Perfectly and absolutely.

It was best, after all. As a young woman, she knew this, even as it pained her. She did not excel at politics – she failed to be charming, her smiles were not demure. Flirtation was altogether out of the question. At best, her utility lay in her ability to go entirely unnoticed long enough to make people forget her presence, and perhaps let slip some information more sensitive than they ought to discuss.

Ironically, even Marasi – at the time still announced as her “cousin” – was better suited to be the center of these events than Steris. It was mostly unintentional, but Marasi was soft-spoken, Marasi was well-mannered. Marasi blushed prettily when young noble lords made jokes. And she did not disappear into the crowds, much though father might have wished otherwise.

The celebrations would continue for hours – her father always dragged them out to the very limits of propriety. Lord Harms paraded Steris around the room at least thrice, securing her introduction to all the young noble sons – good titles, good ties, he always said with a chuckle. They greeted her politely, impassively. Their eyes looked through her, as if her whole form were composed of the same colorless crystal as her cold eyes.

And each year, her father emerged more disappointed. Not in Steris, exactly. Perhaps in himself. But after a time, all the guests trickled away, their laughter and schooled politeness and empty gazes disappearing with them. They left silence in their wake.

Steris had learned to like the silence.

She marked down an incorrect balance in red, her hand quivering ever so slightly. It made the line imperfect, a little tick out of place. She frowned.

Out of place. That was what it felt like.

Steris set the pen down. 

But those days were past. And it was only her father’s best intention. It was unlike her to let this affect her so strongly. Her father was not to blame for the emotionless creature he had raised as a daughter. Could she blame him for trying to do the best he could with what he was given? And now, she was old enough to make her own decisions.

She could let her birthday go unnoticed, if she desired.

“Steris?” 

Waxillium’s voice was thick, still husky with the remnants of sleep. His tall form threw a shadow across the bright, cold light from the window as he walked toward the desk. He hadn’t bothered to change his clothes from the night before – shirt and trousers both were thoroughly wrinkled. She made a mental note to remind Drewton to tell the staff to take extra care with the laundry.

“I thought you might like to sleep,” she said, answering the question he had not asked. She closed the ledger quietly, hiding the pen, but not before he saw it.

“Working, this early?” He raised an eyebrow, but he did not criticize. His work, too, kept strange hours and he was equally devoted to it. 

Knowing this, he changed tactics.

“Have you eaten?”

She shook her head; he had known that when he asked the question, but it was a concession he gave her, an out. If she did not wish to be in his company, he gave her the space she needed. It was one of the things she loved about him. One of an increasing number.

Standing to take his proffered arm, Steris left the ledgers behind for now. They took a leisurely pace down the hall, not talking, just being. The warmth of his arm abated the cold chills of early winter that had stolen over her in the office.

Their breakfast was quiet, but cordial. Waxillium was not a talker early in the morning, but his affection showed in other ways. He always made sure she ate before he did, always saved the financial and business sections of the broadsheets just for her.

Occasionally, Steris glanced up at him, watching him as he ate. And somehow, even when she didn’t move her head, he always seemed to know when she was watching. He glanced up from the broadsheets, a little smile crinkling the corner of his eyes. Then they both returned to their reading. Quiet. Comfortable.

If this was the only small moment of happiness she was allowed, Steris thought, it might rival all the rest of her birthdays combined.

–

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. No formal dresses, no trappings, no uncomfortable exchanges. Steris sat in on Waxillium’s meetings with potential new trade partners, advising when called upon, observing when not. At the end of each meeting, they reviewed her notes and exchanged thoughts. She pointed out subtleties Waxillium had failed to notice; he elaborated on his instincts about the character of each individual. More often than not, his intuitions were as accurate as her gathered intelligence.

He would tease her occasionally, for failing to notice obvious things, like a particular lord's nervously twitching eye, when she had kept meticulous notes about the color of the same man’s cravat. Once or twice, though, she gave as good as she got, catching his little lapses into Roughs-style negotiating. 

It always surprised Waxillium, how scrupulous she was. The interactions kindled an unfamiliar warmth within her; it pleased her to see the look of shock and delight cross his face. Never before had she believed she could be humorous, but around Waxillium, it was… different.

The meetings took most of the day, and then it was more ledgers, then Marasi dropped by for a dinner. She could not stay long after – the constabulary kept her running at all hours, such that this was the first they had seen of her in nearly a month. Wayne had not been by today – a mercy for which Steris was sure to thank the Survivor.

After Marasi said her goodbyes, Steris prepared to return to the ledgers. No doubt, Waxillium would soon be donning his duster and returning to the Mists. She would wait up a little, but it was unlikely that she would remain awake long enough to see him return. She collected her notebook from the receiving room and was about to exit when Waxillium called her name.

“Steris.” He was standing by the window, the feeble rays of evening winter sunlight casting a rosy glow around his form. He was already wearing his duster, a fact that Steris was surprised to find she hadn’t noticed.

“Is something wrong?” He so rarely consulted her about his evening expeditions; it seemed strange that he would now. A nagging worry, like a knot, began to form in her gut.

“Not at all,” his tone was mild, betraying no sign of worry. “I was just wondering if I might borrow a moment of your time. I’d like to show you something.”

Steris glanced down at the notepad in her hand. She really should finish with the ledgers. She had planned to be done with them by tomorrow morning.

But then again, it wasn’t urgent. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. The ledgers could wait, and Waxillium wasn’t given to drawing her away from business without good reason. It wasn’t precisely what she had planned for the evening, but her schedule could be altered to accommodate her husband. Couldn’t it?

She set the notebook on the end table.

“Of course.”

She took Wax’s outstretched hand, reassuring herself that this little deviation wouldn’t set her back much. But as he drew her out onto the balcony beyond the receiving room, she could not quell the little rumblings of nervousness that filled her stomach. For a moment, she considered turning back. That was how the birthday gatherings had begun, after all, so many years ago. A short request, Father insisting that he would only need her for a few moments, that it was a surprise, that it was something she would enjoy. It took fighting against every preservative instinct she possessed not to run back to the quiet safety of numbers and lines.

But it was Waxillium. She trusted him. Trusted him perhaps more than she had ever trusted anyone. He made her feel safe in a way that she could scarcely describe. Even as they stopped at the railing of the balcony, she could feel his eyes on her, weighing, assessing. If she expressed the slightest sign of doubt, she knew he would let her go. Without question, without rebuke.

But that was all the more reason to follow.

She turned to him, a tilt of her head betraying her confusion. “What, exactly, did you want to show me?”

Waxillium couldn’t suppress a grin.

“I have a surprise for you.”

The words from anyone else would have given her pause. Instead, she took a hesitant step closer.

He wrapped a hand around her waist and gave her a moment to adjust. She braced herself against him, knowing that the leap was coming, though she could never quite prepare herself for that sensation. As he threw a coin and Steelpushed, reducing his weight, the air rushed out of her lungs and she found herself breathless for the first moment.

As they reached the top of the arc, she tried not to grin, but it was no use. The feeling of flight was just so… exhilarating.

“Are you alright?” Waxillium spoke into her ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

“I’m… I’m wonderful,” she answered. Against the cool rush of winter wind, her response was so quiet she wondered if he could even hear it. But he seemed to understand, as he only pulled her tighter and shot off into the flaming sky of evening.

Their flight was not long. Within minutes, Waxillium had perched them safely on a nearby rooftop, high above the city. The roof itself was bare of any adornment and for a moment, Steris was puzzled. Had he brought her out here to show her… an empty roof? But then, with a gentle hand, Waxillium turned her to face the city.

Steris could hardly believe her eyes. Below them, warm pinks and oranges streaked the sky over Elendel, signaling the waning day. The cloudless winter sky was clear for miles, revealing the vastness of the city. As they watched, the first lights of the evening flickered on one at a time, like stars bursting into life. All of the people of the city, all of the traffic, all of its movement and action, was reduced to less than nothing, just dots on the landscape. Just buildings sprawling endlessly, and the vast, green basin beyond. It was breathtaking.

Waxillium stepped closer to her, placing a reassuring hand on her waist.

“Worthy of abandoning your ledgers for one evening?”

It took Steris a moment to find the words, caught up as she was in the sight before her. When her tongue finally moved, her speech was inarticulate.

“Yes… yes, of course!” She wished her uncooperative mouth would stop grinning for one moment. Even when she tried to will it back into place, it refused to stay there. The vastness of the city, bathed in the light of sunset, was mesmerizing. She felt like a child, alive with wonder.

Though she hardly wished to tear her eyes away from the sight, she turned back to Waxillium for a moment. She hadn’t mentioned anything. She took care never to mention her birthday, after all the years of disappointments. And yet, somehow…

“Why did you do this?”

His smile was knowing.

“Happy birthday, Steris.”

His grip on her waist tightened, an affectionate gesture, not unwelcome. She moved herself closer to him, tucking herself into his side, into safety and warmth. Despite the incredible sight that surrounded them, Waxillium’s gaze lingered on her – and only her. His warm, dark eyes searching her face.

“Are you happy?”

And Steris could honestly respond:

“Quite.”

Even then, he didn’t tear his gaze away, his smile only deepening. After a moment, he kissed her forehead, holding her close. Warm, real.

“Good.”

For the first time in a long time, Steris was rather glad to be visible, even if only to one person.


End file.
